Flight of la Rotto Uccello
by Melantha Frost
Summary: Italy has given up the present for the past, and makes a grave mistake.


A cool breeze washed over his face, taunting him. Beckoning. Luring him into the fall. It would take only one step. One step off the ledge. It would all be over.

Two centuries. It had been two centuries. He had promised he would come back safe and sound. He had told him to wait.

"Italy? Are you there?"

And he had! Oh, he had. Even with his carbon copy as his ally, his friend, always by his side...

Now he was having doubts.

"Italy!"

Someone had once said that maybe they were soulmates. He had clung to that, clung to it like a lifeline.

"ITALY!"

A muted crash. Probably kicked down the hotel door. The staff wouldn't be very happy.

He looked down. He had made sure to rent a room high up, with just this intention. Yes, he could plan. Yes, he wasn't stupid. Yes, he wasn't deaf.

Either way, he was worthless and useless.

The window opened. "Italy... Feliciano. Don't do this. Just... Just step off the ledge, in"

A strained smile. "Germany. I appreciate all you've done, but... Who I want, who I need, isn't here."

He knew the other wasn't a fool. The increased desperation proved him right.

"But... There are others here who need _you_. Italy, i-ich liebe dich."

The brunet chewed his lip. "Ti amo." The words were ripped out, choking him. _'Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace.'_ "Mi dispiace."

* * *

><p>He giggled and willed his legs to go faster. This was so much fun! Holy Rome followed him, arms outstretched to catch him.<p>

"Can't catch me!" They both knew it was true. He was the faster of the two, much to the other's chagrin.

"Why do you always run?" Holy Rome was panting now, already exhausted.

This brought him at a dead stop. "I-I thought it was a game! I'm sorry, don't hurt me!"

The blond stopped too. "O-oh."

The two looked at each other for a moment, before they both broke into laughter. "I'm going to get you!"

Italy squealed and began running again. A tailwind blew up, allowing him to run faster. He spread his arms and gave them a few experimental flaps. An uplifting feeling rose in his chest. "I'm flying!"

* * *

><p>"Germany?"<p>

Said blond looked up from his book at Italy, perched almost nervously on the couch arm. "Yes?"

"Have... Have you ever wondered what it's like to fly?" It was hushed, hesitant, but carried so much weight. He needed to make sure its importance was conveyed.

He could see and hear what the other was going to say. One fine eyebrow lifted. "You've ridden an airplane before." Exasperation. Bemusement. _No._

_He doesn't get it._

Still, he prodded.

"No, not like that! I mean to fly like a bird!" He flapped his arms to demonstrate.

This time, Germany set down his book to carefully choose his words. "I believe... That one can do anything if... They try." Delivered with deliberate precision.

And this time, he concedes and accepts the answer.

* * *

><p>"I-Italy..."<p>

The child looked up from his cleaning.

"Um... W-would you teach me... How to paint...?" He was undoubtedly anxious, shaking and sweating and stuttering.

"Sure, but you're painting, Holy Roman Empire?"

"A bunny."

"What?"

"I want to paint a bunny."

He flashed a smile. "Okay!" The two ran out of the stifling house and out to the back.

"Mr Bunny! Come out, please?" Holy Rome merely stood back, confused. Why would a wild bunny come out just because she asked it to? To his surprise, one did come out and hopped straight into her arms. "Ooh, yay!"

In no time at all, the easels were set up and they were painting. Holy Rome was not happy with the results. "Dammit, this isn't working out well..." He snuck side glances to surreptitiously compare the two works-in-progress.

"But it is! Where are you having trouble?" So cheerful, so optimistic.

"T-the legs..."

"Here, do it like this!" A touch.

"T-that's it for now." Confusion. Why? What did he do wrong?

* * *

><p>"Italy?"<p>

"In here~"

He peeked out of the door to see the militaristic German following his voice, ducking back in to look over the room. Perfect.

"Why did you call me at four in the morning?" This fact was one full of pride for the brunet. Rarely did this happen, and this pleasant surprise served him well for this special day.

The taller man stepped inside to see the small room packed with paints, brushes, and foldable easels. Finished, unfinished, and empty canvases littered both the walls and floors. Italy stood unbothered in the center, busily gathering enough painting materials for two. "Ve~ I thought it would be nice for you to have a day off! And I thought we could both paint!"

He didn't give the other a chance to reply, only running out of the house to the back, and dropping various things on the way. Germany followed behind him, scrambling to keep up and pick up the fallen items.

"Here~" The two stopped, one breathless, one serene, both of their arms full.

The blond fidgeted. "I-I can't paint. Or draw. Or anything." A long sigh. "I-Italy... W-would you teach me how to paint?"

No. It can't be. "Sure!"

* * *

><p>The <em>crunch crunch<em> of grass alerted him to Holy Rome's approach. He doesn't dare look up. "I did all my work, I swear!"

A Holy Rome-shaped shadow fell over him. "What are you doing?"

Italy blushed a bright red. "P-picking flowers." _"For you,"_ goes unsaid.

"Oh."

Silence reigned between them. Then: "I... W-what do you think we'll be like when we grow up?"

_Easy._ "We'll both be big, and you'll be really strong, stronger than me, and we'll be allies!" The taller one softens.

"I'll always protect you." He didn't mean for Italy to hear, but he did, and this makes the brunet smile.

* * *

><p>Two figures laid against green grass. Around them, trees were showing the first signs of the upcoming autumn with orange and yellow tinted leaves. The sun was just beginning to set, bathing the sky in bright hues, creating a picturesque moment.<p>

"What do you remember about your childhood?"

Germany frowned. "I don't remember much. I think I loved a girl... I've lived with Prussia for as long as I could remember."

Swallow. "I lived with Austria, Hungary, and Ho- a boy. He looked a lot like you would. He thought I was a girl. They all did. Then he left for war." Look away. _He is not him._

He doesn't see the flicker of recognition in those icy blue eyes.

* * *

><p>"Holy Roman Empire?" <em>'He's leaving. Leaving me. Just like Grandpa Rome.'<em>

"...Look. Italy. There's something I have to tell you."

_'No.'_

"I-I'm... Sorry for everything I did."

_'Aren't we all?'_

"This is goodbye, so don't worry."

Tears. People, people part of _him_, preparing to take him away. To war. "W...what do you mean...?" Don't. Please.

"I...I meant what I said." Two soldiers walk up.

Go away. Leave. "Holy Roman Empire. The carriage is ready." He is too busy glaring daggers at their backs. They wouldn't notice anyway, or care, he is just a little child, a girl, no harm to them.

"So long... Stay well, alright?" He turns and runs to catch up to his men. A child. A boy. A boy going to war. _'I should be telling you that.'_

"Don't go, Holy Roman!" Few more minutes. That's all I ask for.

All the black clad boy does is pause and look back. "Here. Take this with you." Take _me_ with you. "Maybe it will help you think of me."

"Why would it help...?" Remember? "Oh." A smile. He can't help but think that it looks like a reminiscent, one suited for war veterans... or someone ready to die. "Grazie. I would be honored to have your broom!"

Wind blows before he speaks again. "Then, I'll also... W-what do your people give to their loved ones?"

Was it taking advantage? He doesn't care. "A... A kiss, I guess."

"I see." So confused. Holy Rome does not like him back. His heart drops. Painfully. "Ever since the 900's, I've always loved you." He cannot wrap his mind around it, what was this, how? And the feel of soft lips upon his, sweet and gentle, passionate.

Italy cannot think, but must break the moment. "R-really?"

"Yeah."

"Ve~ I'm so happy!" Such an Italy-like thing to say, so generic.

"Farewell then, Italy! I'll definitely come see you when the fight is over!"

"I'll wait, I'll always wait! I'll make lots and lots of sweets for your return! A-and don't get hurt, o-or sick, all right?" A feeling of dread courses through him as he says this, but he shakes it off. He will come back. _He will_.

"We'll see each other again! We will! We really will! No matter how many hundreds of years go by, I'll always love you more than anyone in the world!"

* * *

><p>You never came back.<p>

It has been years and years now.

Waiting.

I'm done.

* * *

><p>For one, heart-stopping moment, he thinks of staying, of being truly happy with Germany in this world. Here. Now.<p>

"Goodbye." _Wait for me._

One step forward.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: Hey guys... Major writer's block for all my stories... Heh heh. And 8th grade. So. Yeah. And I've recently fallen in love with Hetalia, as you can see. Was it confusing? If yes, then I've accomplished my goal. Any recognizable lines/scenes/characters/everything is owned by Himaruya. R&R!_**

**_La Rotto Uccello - Italian - The broken bird_**

**_Ich liebe dich - German - I love you_**

**_Ti amo - Italian - I love you_**

**_Mi dispiace - Italian - My apologies/ I'm sorry_**

**_Edit: Seperation lines wouldn't show! Fixed._**


End file.
